


The One with the Princess Leia Fantasy

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Masturbation, OTP Feels, Or the Equivalent in a Galaxy Far Far Away, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 09:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Poe squeezes his eyes shut as he shakes his head furiously. "Theprincess! You know the rules. The princess is not the same as the general. She can't be.""Uh-huh," Finn says. It's the tone he uses where he doesn't understand, but also doesn't want to hear the explanation, not again. "Totally different."Finn's off on a mission but they're making do with holo-calls and (rules-bound!) fantasies.





	The One with the Princess Leia Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober prompts: Masturbation and orgasm denial.  
Also, Friends Episode Title Prompt: 3x01.

He's good and hot, getting nice and close. Poe arches his back on the next upstroke. He twists his grip and adds a second, shorter upstroke just to the crown. "How's this?"

There's a pause, and he swings in the silence, his breath coming quick and shallow. He's so exposed like this, more than naked, performing the basic truth for Finn's eyes only.

"That's good," Finn says. Just the sound of his voice makes Poe grunt in relief. "Now she's working her way up your body, making you long to kiss her..."

"Way ahead of that," Poe replies.

"What?"

"I've _been_ longing, man! For like half my life!"

Finn is quiet for a long time. Poe's dick twitches in his loose grip. The spit on his palm is going tacky.

"This is a fantasy," Finn says at last. "So I was building the scene."

"Right, right, I get that. I like that! Thank you for that!" He swallows and licks his lips. "I'm just saying, I know what that's like. The _longing_."

"You do, huh?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Longing." Every word Finn says brushes over Poe's nerves, a little hotter, a little rougher, each time.

Poe pinches his shaft, just under the head, and shivers. "Yeah."

"For the general." 

Poe squeezes his eyes shut as he shakes his head furiously. "The _princess_! You know the rules. The princess is not the same as the general. She can't be."

"Uh-huh," Finn says. It's the tone he uses where he doesn't understand, but also doesn't want to hear the explanation, not again. "Totally different."

"Yeah."

"Utterly separate."

"Finn. I know it doesn't make any sense."

"It's okay," Finn says. "Sorry, I was just fucking with you."

"You could get to plain fucking, you know." To emphasize his interest in that prospect, Poe raises his eyebrows and tries to look sultry.

Finn sighs, and it makes a long, weary gusty sound. "I wish. Man."

"I know," Poe says quickly. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Where was I?"

"Medal ceremony, she's standing behind me, touching me. Playing with my hair. For some reason I'm naked, which is awesome." It's a damn good fantasy, Poe is the first to acknowledge Finn's genius. Here, as in everything the guy does, he's both comprehensive with detail and singularly focused on the ultimate goal. Poe's usual j/o fantasies are more frantic and choppy, dedicated to getting the job done than building anything of value. Not Finn, though. Finn gives it his all, even when "it" is just Poe's stupid helpless lifelong crush on Leia Organa. "Making me long to kiss her?"

Finn chuckles a little. "Longing with which you are, we have now established, very familiar."

"Yeah." Poe reaches down with his other hand to play with his balls. He cups them, rolls them a little, tugs on some hair to make his breath catch and eyes sting. "Oh, damn."

"She's pulling your hair, actually," Finn says, right in his ear, voice smokey heat. "Tugging back your head. Maybe she'll slap you around a little."

Poe groans, jerking himself faster, pre-come welling over his hand. He wriggles a bit, gets a foot braced on the bulkhead, and reaches farther back to work his taint, creep teasingly toward his hole. He's got Finn's voice sinking through him, tightening his skin from the inside, and pressure building, pulling him upward.

"She knows how much you want her," Finn adds and Poe thrashes to the side. "Okay, stop."

"The fuck?"

"Stop." He sounds serious. He sounds like he's running a briefing, no humor, all gravity. "Hands over your head."

"Finn!"

"Stop or I'll cut the holo right now."

Tense and sparking as he is, Poe's _also_ clumsy, slow to unlock his fingers and pull free his hands. His arms weigh about a half a ton each.

"Like this?" He's hoarse, and probably sounds sulky, but it's taking everything he has to keep relatively still. His cock aches; he has to look up at the ceiling, away from its reproving purple. "Fuck."

"Good job," Finn tells him, coaxing and warm, so kind that it just makes Poe harder and achier. "That's really good."

"Fuck you," Poe replies. "Also, thanks."

"You're welcome." Finn's voice drops and goes softer. "Wish I was there."

"You are, though," Poe says. "I mean, you always are when I'm..."

"Not the same."

"I know."

Finn's been on this fucking mission for five tendays. It feels like five decades, frankly. This holo hookup, with his face floating a little ways above Poe's shoulder, is the best solution they've found. BB-8 makes the holo connection, sets up the projector, then powers down; neither he nor Poe can deal with him being witness.

"Miss you," Finn says after a bit. 

"Same."

"You okay? You sound..."

"I'm dying over here," Poe says.

Finn laughs a little, gulping. "You're being so good."

"Kinda want to misbehave."

"Maybe get slapped around?"

"...fuck, I didn't even think of that." Poe digs the heels of his hands against his eye sockets until he sees flashes and explosions. "Buddy, I don't even—. I just—. Damn it."

"Tell me," Finn says, and it's easy to pretend he's here, so close Poe could smell him, lips on Poe's ear, hand on Poe's dick. Easy, then impossible, and the more impossibly far he recedes, the more Poe wants him right here.

Poe groans, lost in the simplest fantasy yet. "Please."

"Whatever you want."

Arching his neck, swallowing the rush of spit in his mouth, Poe groans again, long and loud. "Just give me. I don't know. _You_."

"I'm no princess," Finn says lightly. "Me?"

"You're about as hard on me as she is!" Poe shouts, and his cock bounces and his ass clenches and _fuck_, he's really close. "I want you just as bad. More."

Finn feigns surprise and disbelief. "More, huh?"

"Please," he says again, voice crackling in his ears. "Talk to me? Let me come."

"Just want to ride you, really," Finn says, like he's musing what to order from a noodle menu. "Climb up and sink down on you and—"

Poe's hands flex and clutch at the coverlet underneath him. He's fairly sure his cock is spasming. "Finn."

Finn's ass is hot and tight, slick and welcoming. He can fuck with it just as surely, _overwhelmingly_, as he can work his dick inside Poe. Plus, he gets this _expression_, when he's looking down at Poe, like he's both intensely present and somewhere else, cosmically huge, bearing down on one sad little human soul. It's awe, but it can't be for _Poe_. It must be reflected _from_ Poe.

"Yeah," Finn says, "ride you for a good long while, squeeze you til you've come dry a couple times. Several? Sounds good to me."

Poe can't respond. He's stuffing one fist into his mouth and biting down; the other hand claws at the coverlet. The heat tensioning his skin puckers all the way down, until he's just the length of his own dick, and then everything gives way and releases. He might sob, he definitely pants, and come splatters his thigh, his belly, some of the bulkhead.

He's curled on his side, breathing hard, when Finn says, "Beautiful."

"You are," Poe says and Finn laughs.

"No, you."

"You."

"Poe..."

"I couldn't stop," Poe says. "Sorry."

"Oh, you'll be sorry," Finn says, half-laughing still, half-serious. "I'll make sure of it."

"Tongue lashes?" Poe asks hopefully.

"Just as a start, yeah."

"Your tongue rules."

"Kind of you," Finn says. He sounds a little distracted, like he's looking over his shoulder. Poe cracks open an eye and, yes, the blue-striped holo projection of Finn's hovering face is, indeed, checking over its shoulder. "Sorry about this, but—"

"Go," Poe tells him. "Save the galaxy, just be sure to remember the little people."

"Idiot," Finn says fondly. Poe salutes him with a spit-wet hand, and then the holo winks out and is gone.

It glows for a little while afterward behind Poe's lids. When that, too, has faded, and he's shivering not from arousal but from being buck-ass naked and post-orgasmic, he drags himself up to his feet and makes for the fresher to clean up. He's loose-limbed and heavy, clumsy, and the world outside his bunk is very sharp and loud.

In the passage, Bastian and Iolo are joking rudely and shoving each other, their flight-suits flapping around their hips. When Poe gives them a dopey grin and keeps shuffling forward, Bastian says, as loudly as possible, "Someone got lucky."

"No shit," Poe says. "Tell me something I don't know."


End file.
